Imagine standing before your FC, blindfolded.
“Strip. All of it,” they command softly in your ear, standing just behind you. Gentle but firm, a voice which, while not cruel, brooks no argument. Over the rustling of your clothing, you can just barely pick up their footfalls slowly pacing around you, taking in the view. Presumably they enjoy what they see, though their orders continue to be delivered calmly, evenly, not yet betraying any sign of arousal.
“Arms behind your back.” FC binds your wrists together. The rope is sturdy, likely cotton, rough enough to provide a pleasurable sensation but not so rough it irritates. You feel flushed, your breathing is beginning to grow ragged.
“Good. Kneel.” You feel a hand lightly push down on your shoulder, much the same as FC’s tone, powerful without force. As you sink to your knees, you hear them circling to in front of you. The lack of sight pushes the other senses into overdrive such that even this little thing stirs your lust further. Next comes the whisper of fabric sliding off of skin, and then, at long last, FC chuckles.
“Now,” they say, with one hand on the back of your head bringing it close, “once you please me, a reward will be in order.” You know quite well that with your skill at servicing them orally, and the value they place on keeping their word, that it will be a very enjoyable evening.